


let your water wash over me

by writer_on_fire01



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Bathtubs, F/F, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-29 02:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30149493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writer_on_fire01/pseuds/writer_on_fire01
Summary: Cristina helps Meredith get over a mild fear of water.
Relationships: Meredith Grey/Cristina Yang
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	let your water wash over me

**Author's Note:**

> i have so many little one-shots of these two in my docs ahhh this one has been sitting around for a little while but i was just thinking about them and they are so so cute. i think meredith and cristina broke me. so here's this
> 
> title is from water by jack garratt. that song is an entire aesthetic and it always reminds me of meredith drowning so. yeah

Cristina wakes up early. Early meaning _early_. Four o’clock on work days, but five on weekends. It’s just how she’s always been, with no effort on her part. 

It’s why she’s surprised when she wakes up alone after having spent the night curled around Meredith. The sheets are all ruffled around her, and there’s an indentation in the mattress where Meredith had been. The comforter clings to Cristina. Without Meredith, it feels like a warm, stuffy trap. Her legs are tingling with discomfort-- restless legs syndrome is a bitch-- so Cristina wrestles with the blanket until she’s freed herself. 

It’s when she stands that she hears the steady flow of water. She’d been intending to brush her teeth anyways, so Cristina knocks lightly on the bathroom door. Her throat is dry, and it takes a couple tries to properly speak.

“Mere, you decent? I need to pee.” 

“Yeah,” calls Meredith, so Cristina tries the door. It swings beneath her grip, and she sees Meredith hunched over the bathtub, still in her pajamas. The faucet is pouring. The thick, waterfall-esque stream hits the surface of the bathwater with a series of thick _glug_ s. 

Cristina stands in the doorway, taking in the sight and trying to figure out what to make of it. She has, after all, heard some unpleasant things regarding Meredith and bathtubs. 

“Meredith?” Cristina tries.

“Oh, give it a break,” Meredith scoffs, not even bothering to look at Cristina. “What am I supposed to do, sponge-bathe? Because if you want to man the sponge, I’ll strip, but I’m sure that’s not your idea of a pleasant Saturday morning.”

“Showers exist,” Cristina points out. “You have one.” 

“I’m an adult,” Meredith insists. 

“Yeah.” 

Cristina has been lingering in the doorway for too long, so she steps into the bathroom and plucks a toothbrush from the holder. She’s not exactly sure whose it is, but she doesn’t have one at Meredith’s house for whatever reason and she’s _pretty_ sure the orange one never gets used. She’s trying to squeeze the last of the off-brand toothpaste onto the thing-- George may have left, but his habit of squeezing from the middle of the tube decidedly has not-- when Meredith speaks again. 

“I’m not going in, you know.”

“Oh?” Cristina stops in her pursuit of toothpaste to gaze in the mirror. She can see Meredith’s back in the glass. 

“This is just exposure therapy for me, because my life would be fucking depressing if I could never look at water again.” 

Cristina abandons the orange toothbrush on the counter and wanders over to where she’s next to Meredith, leaning over the bath. The water is clear. Ripples flow out from where the tap hits the surface. A drop hits Meredith in the nose and she winces back. 

“Mere, this reads alarmingly like a two in the morning project. How long have you been up?” 

“Since two in the morning.” Meredith slowly leans back towards the water, gazing into it unblinkingly. It’s like she’s trying to communicate with it. The image of her reflection in the water is shattered every time a new tide pushes out from the edge. “I don’t get it. I can _drink_ water just fine-- not that I need it, I already live off alcohol.”

“Try apple juice,” Cristina says. The suggestion is ignored. 

“It’s these big bodies of water that I can’t deal with,” Meredith finishes. 

“Hey.” Cristina looks to Meredith, who slowly tears her gaze from the water. It’s like she’s afraid it’ll leap up and attack. Cristina can’t blame her. 

Her eyes are wide with what is unmistakably fear. Cristina cannot shake the cruel irony that she can only describe Meredith’s bright, vivid eyes as seafoam green. _Sea_ foam. 

Cristina reaches out and takes Meredith’s wrist gently in her hand. Her skin is warm, and maybe Meredith kicked hypothermia’s ass, but Cristina can’t help a quiet sigh of relief. She wraps her fingers around the base of Meredith’s hand. 

“Do you trust me?” Cristina asks. Meredith only nods, her eyes still wide. 

Cristina guides her hand down over the side and presses Meredith’s palm flat against the water. It ripples lightly around her fingers, hitting Cristina’s. It’s cool. 

Cristina slowly releases Meredith’s hand and lifts her own up and out of the bathtub. Meredith’s gaze has flicked to her hand, and she stares at the water, how it flows around her fingers, with a childlike fascination. She pushes it further in.

“See? It’s alright.” Cristina realizes that she’s hovering over Meredith’s shoulder, breathing onto her cheek and leaning against her back. She leans in and, in a spontaneous decision, presses her lips to Meredith’s lukewarm temple.

Meredith turns around. Her eyes are still glazed-over, and she doesn’t even seem to be looking at Cristina. Cristina leans forward and kisses Meredith lightly on the lips. She’s pushing a boundary, traversing the surface like Meredith’s hand over the bathwater, but she tells herself that it’s fine because it was primarily an action of affection rather than attraction.

Meredith’s head gravitates back towards the water. She flicks at it with her finger, enamored. 

Even when Cristina pries herself away using the walls of the bathtub, Meredith has no reaction. Doesn’t even look at her. She just stares, wide-eyed, at the water and watches it lick at her hand.

When Cristina walks away she tip-toes, afraid to disturb Meredith. She flicks off the lights, crawls back under the too-warm sheets, and falls back asleep. In a half-hour she’ll wake up nuzzled against Meredith and wonder if it was a dream. Then she’ll spot two damp handprints on their pillows, one slightly darker and smaller than the other, and close her eyes once more.

**Author's Note:**

> hope that was fun. i've sort of been drowning this tag but you can't blame me when the mertina feels are this damn strong help


End file.
